In a series of brief essays he’s written for his grandchildren and shared with the Citizen, Newman recalls his boyhood in Morden, South London during the days of “The Blitz” — the nine-month German bombing campaign during the Battle of Britain. London alone was bombed for 57 consecutive nights.

“I didn’t have any fear. I’d grown up with it and this was normal. We didn’t know anything else. I was too young to be afraid,” Newman said.

“I often use to tell my granddaughters about these things. They were always fascinated. They said I should write them down.”

Through the eyes of a five-year-old, Newman describes playfully hunting for shrapnel and shell casings that dropped from the aerial battles overhead; being dared by his chums to ask for water from Italian prisoners of war housed behind barbed war in a nearby encampment; and — worst of all — the trauma of German V-1 “doodle bugs” that fell indiscriminately and without warning.

“The doodle bug came crashing down toward the houses where we lived,” he writes. “Between it and us were three enormous elm trees in the line of the flight path. The flying bomb hit the first tree, vaporizing it and to lesser degrees the other two. In the line after the trees was row housing. They were obliterated except for the galvanized pipes of the interior plumbing. It remained standing with bathtubs hanging limply from them — a surreal scene.”

Newman and his family were hiding in their back garden in a tiny bomb shelter dug four feet into the earth, topped with galvanized steel and covered with a foot of earth. A potato sack served as a door. The blast blew away the thin covering of soil, and earth and concrete from the wall collapsed on top of Newman, he recalls.

But it was seeing his mother crying in the kitchen that, for the first time, made Newman realize that life was not normal.

“When we were out of the shelter, I went into the kitchen where I saw my mum pressing out a small cube of margarine on its grease proof wrapper,” he wrote. “(She was) trying to remove the splinters of glass that had penetrated it from the explosion. There were tears running down her cheeks. It was all too much for her, and when I saw her crying I joined in.”

Other memories were more playful. Collecting newts from the forests that they kept in the public cisterns. Clambering over a fence into a restricted area, where they played in the forests. Or the day the grocer got an unexpected and most exotic shipment of bananas.

“Most of us kids … had never seen or touched one,” he wrote. “Some tried to look nonchalant about the whole thing, while others sniffed at them or pointed them at each other like toy guns. … The truth was, none of us was at all sure how they should be eaten.”

Adventurous boys looked for debris that fell from the sky as British Hurricane and Spitfire fighters clashed with German Messerschmitts and Heinkels.

“In the morning when we emerged after a night in the air raid shelter, we would scour the streets and gardens for the twisted fragments of shells and bombs that showered down upon us through the night. If you found a piece with German writing on it, all the kids gathered around to see it and would make offers of three or four pieces of regular shrapnel in exchange … but these offers were seldom accepted.”

And then there was the glorious day in May 1945 when it all ended. Six years of the War in Europe were over and the children learned for the first time what street lamps were for.

“Most of us kids had never seen street lights illuminated. The lamp standards were there, but for us they were there for leaning against and climbing.

All that changed on VE Day.

“Street parties happened and there was stuff to eat. A van appeared with four enormous speakers on the roof and it began blasting music out into the ever-increasing crowd. People were dancing and conga lines were weaving through the streets and there was a growing sense of excitement spreading.

As it grew darker, the tension grew and everyone was converging on the avenue. … At last it was dark and everyone was looking up a the unlit lights with excited anticipation. And then the unbelievable happened. They burst into a brilliant blue light that flooded the street and all the people. It was a wonderful sight.”

Comments

We encourage all readers to share their views on our articles and blog posts. We are committed to maintaining a lively but civil forum for discussion, so we ask you to avoid personal attacks, and please keep your comments relevant and respectful. If you encounter a comment that is abusive, click the "X" in the upper right corner of the comment box to report spam or abuse. We are using Facebook commenting. Visit our FAQ page for more information.

Almost Done!

Postmedia wants to improve your reading experience as well as share the best deals and promotions from our advertisers with you. The information below will be used to optimize the content and make ads across the network more relevant to you. You can always change the information you share with us by editing your profile.

By clicking "Create Account", I hearby grant permission to Market to use my account information to create my account.

I also accept and agree to be bound by Postmedia's Terms and Conditions with respect to my use of the Site and I have read and understand Postmedia's Privacy Statement. I consent to the collection, use, maintenance, and disclosure of my information in accordance with the Postmedia's Privacy Policy.

Postmedia wants to improve your reading experience as well as share the best deals and promotions from our advertisers with you. The information below will be used to optimize the content and make ads across the network more relevant to you. You can always change the information you share with us by editing your profile.

By clicking "Create Account", I hearby grant permission to Postmedia to use my account information to create my account.

I also accept and agree to be bound by Postmedia's Terms and Conditions with respect to my use of the Site and I have read and understand Postmedia's Privacy Statement. I consent to the collection, use, maintenance, and disclosure of my information in accordance with the Postmedia's Privacy Policy.